


The Diaries of Crookshanks the Cat

by SootyOwl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crookshanks, Fluff, Gen, Kitty - Freeform, Kitty loving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SootyOwl/pseuds/SootyOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I, Crookshanks, am a cat. Proud and fluffy. This is the story of how I got myself a new pet, and how I protected her from an evil imposter. Fluff mainly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A silly little story I thought I'd write as I'm struggling with the plot of another fic.**

* * *

 

**This story's roots go way back to the summer, when my sister and I, not content with our first visit, decided to return to the Warner Bros Studio Tour, eager for more Harry Potter. We went on our own, on an organised coach trip, a journey time of about 7 hours, but felt longer since the bus broke down just across the Scottish-English border. There we were, a bus full of hyperactive children, sitting at the side of the motorway waiting for someone to come get us. The bus driver (bless him), not much of a HP fan himself, nevertheless tried to keep our spirits up, and Googled a Harry Potter quiz to read out on the bus' microphone to keep the kids entertained. One of the questions was: "What book did Dumbledore leave to Hermione Granger in his will?" The choices were: "A- The Tales of Beedle the Bard, B- Year with a Yeti, or C- The Diaries of Crookshanks the Cat." Of course, all the children got the answer correct, but my mind was racing as I considered the third option. Just how did Crookshanks see the events of the Prisoner of Azkaban? And that thinking kept me occupied all the rest of the way as I told this story to the kids sitting in the seats in front of me. At the Studio Tour, I bough a plush Crookshanks toy as a reminder, but it's only now I've decided to write it all down. I hope you enjoy my ramblings :)  
**

* * *

I, Crookshanks, am a cat.

Not one of those prim and perfect Persians, or the sleek, posh tabbies. I am a  _proper_ cat. Smart, tough, and above all, fluffy.

The Two-Legs think they are above every other creature in the world. It's almost endearing how great they think themselves. Stupid creatures like dogs like to pander to the Two-Legs and play the fool, but cats … no, we have  _far_ more dignity than that.

Of course, I've often got into trouble for this before. I'd once had an old female Two-Legs for a pet, and I was fairly content. The balls of wool that fell at her feet kept me fairly amused, and I was fed regularly, even if the meat was a little tough. She sat in a chair before the fire humming to herself and listening to the little box that spoke, and she was a fairly decent companion, as Two-Legs go. Even if she did try to brush me on occasion.

She was good to me, and in return, I occasionally jumped up and sat in her knee, purring to show her my gratitude. She loved me, and I … well, I wasn't nasty to her. I prided myself on finding such a nice Two-Legs to settle down with.

Until the kittens came.

My Two-Legs pet all of a sudden seemed to have hairless kittens always around at  _my_  house. They ran everywhere, falling over when they tried to stand and instead began to crawl. They looked ridiculous, but that wasn't the problem. This was  _my_  territory!

I sat under chairs and stools, glaring at the hairless-kittens whenever they came near and hissing to tell them to stay away, but they didn't listen. They seemed even less intelligent than dogs!

It wasn't my fault. I warned them to stay away from me! But no, they insisted on running after me screaming " _Kitty!"_ and trying to  _hug_  me of all things! They picked me up, pulled out my beautiful ginger fur and stood on my tail, laughing at me. My Two-Legs pet didn't seem to mind at all, and laughed at the hairless-kittens, giving them treats whenever they did something stupid, like sing a silly song, even though they sounded worse than the wailing of the alley cats. She smiled at them and pampered them, and suddenly  _I_  wasn't her favourite anymore! Why? They barely even had any fur!

The final straw came when they attempted to shove me into some sort of box on wheels and dress me up with frilly pink scraps of cloth and push me around the back garden. I am a  _cat!_ I wasn't about to stand for that!

So I did what came naturally. I scratched them.

I probably shouldn't have, but I did warn them. They screamed and ran away clutching at their hands and faces like cowardly puppies; I'd barely even touched them! But when my Two-Legs pet came and saw what I'd done she wasn't happy, and she kept me out of the house all night. How dare she! This was  _my_  house!

Every time those hairless-kittens came near me, I hissed and swept my paws towards them again, and soon they learned to stay away. But my Two-Legs pet seemed unhappy, and pushed me away whenever I tried to go near her.

Eventually, one day she put me into one of those stupid baskets and took me somewhere. I was  _not_ amused about being shoved into a small cage and lugged around, and I hissed at her to prove it. But she did not let me out, and soon took me to a strange street filled with Two-Legs. I peered out the bars of my cage and saw many of them, wearing strange pointed hats on their heads, passing by shops with arrogant owls perched outside that seemed to smirk at my predicament as I passed by.

Soon, she had taken me into one of those shops, and as soon as the smell hit me, I was  _very_  unhappy. The entire place was filled with animals like rats and owls and toads. The noise of these inane animals chattering aimlessly to each other was incredibly annoying. I began to get wary, what was my pet planning?

She reached the front of the shop and dumped me on the counter and began speaking to another Two-Legs. I never usually cared what Two-Legs said to each other; listening in and trying to make sense of the drivel they spoke that passed for language was far beneath my dignity. But now, I listened.

I did not understand it all, but I caught words like "grandchildren", "bad-tempered", "unable", "sell" and "replace", which I did  _not_  like the sound of. Despite my pride, I had felt a flickering of fear at this. The Two-Legs behind the counter had nodded, pulled out some golden discs and given them to my pet, who pocketed them. Then my pet had looked around the shop a little, and came back with some sort of fluffy looking creature that didn't even seem to have a face and just sat there trilling away inanely. She passed the other Two-Legs some more discs and was given a basket for the furball.

I had begun to understand at that point. She was replacing me.

How could she do that?! She was  _my_  pet! She had no right to get rid of me! And for that furball? It didn't even have any teeth! How was it going to protect itself from those hairless-kittens? Someone needed to deal with them!

No, I had decided, she wouldn't do that. I had lived with her for a long, long time. Surely she would not get rid of me just for the sake of those hairless-kittens? I mean, they had asked for it! I should not be gotten rid of just because they were just too stupid to understand the words: "Stay away or I'll bite you!"

But my worst fears were confirmed when she peered into the front of the basket and smiled.

"Goodbye, Crookshanks," she had said, and turned away and out of the shop, the basket containing the furball at her side, where I should be.

I had sat there for a while, unable to believe what she had just done. How could she treat me like this?

I had to be believe that she was coming back. I was her companion, and she my pet. I was loyal, I was intelligent, and I was  _fluffy_! She wouldn't be able to live without me.

So I waited. Day after day I sat in my little cage, not even leaving when I was let out for exercise. My pet would come for me, and I was going to wait right there for her. She'd take me back, I'd scratch her for thinking she could leave me there, and then we'd go back to their house and she'd knit, and I would chase the wool just like old times.

But she didn't come. Other people came into the shop and took furballs, rats and toads, but my pet did not come for me. I grew angry. How could she leave me here?

Eventually, I gave up waiting. I was a cat! I was too good to let myself pine after some Two-Legs like some mangy dog. It was her loss.

Yet it pained me still. I decided then, I would no longer be nice to Two-Legs. They were all the same.

The owner of the shop tried to sell me. Tried. She'd bring me out my cage and give me to some Two-Legs and its offspring to be sold, but I showed her. I bit and I scratched and I yowled so loudly she had to point that little stick at me and do a spell to keep me quiet. I wasn't about to let myself be sold like a piece of meat. I'm a cat! Not some silly kitten that needed protection. I wasn't about to play by the rules.

So I stayed there for many years. The Two-Legs gave up trying to sell me; no one wanted me if I was always going to bite and scratch them, even if I did have beautiful ginger fur. Though, after time, it got less beautiful, and began to look scruffy since I bit the Two-Legs every time she tried to brush me. I wasn't about to play her game. I soon figured out how to unlock my cage, and I wandered about the shop of my own free will. The first few times the Two-Legs tried to stuff me back in, but I showed her who was boss. I strutted around, letting her clean up after me, determined not to make it easy for her. She didn't give a damn about me, and I returned the favour.

I tried to escape a few times, but she always beat me to it. The door was kept firmly shut, and no matter how high I jumped, I could not reach the handle. Every time someone came into the shop, the Two-Legs froze me in place to make sure I would not run out the open door.

I wanted my freedom. I wasn't about to become the pet of a two-legged creature. The other animals in the shop laughed at me and called me strange, but I just stuck my nose in the air and didn't bother to reply. They were submissive and idiotic, I was better than that. Who wants to run around after some Two-Legs all their life? I was determined to be better than that. If I ever got another pet, I would make sure that  _I_ was the one in charge

So I waited. I was bored. I was humiliated. But I knew the only way I could leave was to be bought by someone. As ridiculous as it was, it was my only option.

But I was incredibly fussy about who I would adopt. I put them all through their strides. They had to be intelligent (though of course, not more intelligent than I was), they had to be kind, love cats (of course) and be interesting (at least, as interesting as a Two-Legs could be). I wanted something more exciting than sitting around a shop all day. I wanted to  _be_  something. I didn't even want a return to the life I had led before. I wanted to  _prove_  just how great a cat I could be.

So I bit and scratched every person who tried to buy me but proved themselves to be inferior. I wasn't about to let myself be sold to someone unworthy. I bided my time.

Which brings me to today.

As usual, I was sitting on top of one of the cupboards in the back of the room, watching every person that came in the door, privately evaluating each of them as they walked in. If I liked the look of them, I would investigate, if not, I would go back to my bath and ignore them completely.

Today, something piqued my interest more than it had done in a long while. Today, after a long line of boring Two-Legs and their boring problems with their boring pets, three Two-Legs came into the shop. They were young, barely more than kittens, and at first I dismissed them, and continued cleaning myself.

One of the kittens, a male one I thought, with hair the same colour as my beautiful fur went up to the owner and started blabbering, and I lost interest. But then a new smell caught my attention.

I turned to look at the ginger-kitten and saw him withdraw a rat from a pocket. Only it wasn't a rat.

I felt myself bristle with anger. I restrained myself with difficulty while I examined the situation. It looked old, it was tattered and missing a toe from its front paw. It looked like any ordinary garden rat, but it wasn't.

My hackles rose and I glared at the imposter. It was not a rat! It was only a Two-Legs pretending!

I knew that some Two-Legs like to turn into animals, but I had never heard of one that actually  _stayed_  as an animal. It could only be up to no good.

The Ginger-Kitten seemed oblivious to the rat's true identity, and I felt my anger grow even greater. How dare this Two-Legs dare to pretend to be a rat! It was the ultimate insult.

So I did what any respectable cat would; I pounced.

I hurled myself at the Not-A-Rat, bouncing off the Ginger-Kitten's head and threw myself at it, hissing fiercely and spitting at it. The Not-A-Rat, coward as it was took off and scarpered for the door. I tried to follow it, to show to it  _exactly_  what I thought of it, but the Two-Legs that owned the shop pulled me back, reprimanding me like I was some unruly kitten and levitated me back into my cage with her stick, while the Ginger-Kitten and his Four-Eyed friend ran after the Not-A-Rat. I yowled loudly to show my displeasure, and immediately let myself out of my cage again, determined to race after the imposter.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS!" my Two-Legs shouted at me. I turned and hissed at her; how dare she order me around? I was a cat!

"Oh, he's so beautiful!" gushed the Extra-Fluffy-Kitten that had accompanied the other two; a female I thought. Immediately, I froze.

I turned and looked at her critically. She was as young as the other two, with very fluffy fur on her head, and she was looking at me with an adoring look on her face. Immediately, this aroused my interest;  _no one_  looked at me like that anymore,  _no one_  saw me as the adorable creature I was, only a vicious monster.

She was brave this one; I could easily scratch that pretty face of hers. But she came closer and bent down to scratch me behind the ears. My Two-Legs warned her, but I did not attack, and instead found myself purring.  _This_ Two-Legs was not so bad.

My own Two-Legs stared in astonishment and started telling her how  _difficult_  I was and how no one wanted to buy me. I almost spat at her in derision; that wasn't the case at all. I was only difficult because  _I_  did not want  _them._

But this Extra-Fluffy-Kitten did not care and continued gushing over me, quite admirably; she knew quality when she saw it. She began to ask my Two-Legs how much it was to buy me, and she replied with a price that was  _far_  below what I was worth, probably desperate to get rid of me.

The Extra-Fluffy-Kitten reached into a pocket and withdrew some gold discs and began to count them out. I sat and watched, thinking this over carefully. Did I want to adopt this Two-Legs? She was brave, and she had good taste, that much was evident. She was young however, would she be able to provide for me enough? Would she end up having kittens of her own in a few years that would push me to the side?

But something about her made me forget this. She had brains, and she seemed to genuinely think I was lovely, which was more than my current Two-Legs did. And besides, she was friends with those other two kittens, one of which had a Not-A-Rat for a pet. If I went with her … I could get another shot at him.

The idea was tempting. That Not-A-Rat would regret impersonating an animal if  _I_  had anything to say about it.

I was decided. I _would_  adopt this kitten. Besides, most anything was better than this hell-hole.

Finally, the gold discs were exchanged, and my new pet stooped down to claim me. She lifted me into her arms and held me tightly, and I snuggled in, liking the smell of her, nuzzling against her neck. Yes, this could be  _quite_  agreeable.

My pet turned to leave, and I shot my previous Two-Legs a parting glare, and I laughed at all the other creatures in the shop in a deep meow. They watched me jealously, and I could not help but feel smug. They had called me stupid for being so fussy, they had thought I was strange, and here I was! A brand new pet! I showed them.

My pet carried me out of the shop and down the street, and I blinked in the sunlight, happy to be outside once more in the fresh air. She carried me down the street until we met up with the other kittens, who had by now found the Not-A-Rat cowering away in the dirt. But I did not attempt to go after him just now. I had a new pet, I intended to enjoy myself. I could eat the Not-A-Rat later.

The other kittens, in particular the ginger one, looked outraged, but I did not care, and just kept purring away in my pet's arms.

"You  _bought_  that monster?" the Ginger-Kitten asked.

"He's  _gorgeous_  isn't he?" my pet answered, and I purred even louder. Yes, I had chosen  _very_ well.

They continued to blabber on and I lost interest, content to just sit there purring away, enjoying the scenery. Eventually they all left and headed into some sort of inn, where we met up with yet more ginger kittens, evidently all from the same litter. I ignored them all, my new pet was scratching me behind the ears and feeding me tidbits from the table, and I was perfectly happy.

The stench of the Not-A-Rat however lingered, and I longed to go after him. But I decided to wait. Plenty of time for that later.

I had a new pet, and I was looking forward to a long and happy life with her, this kind and intelligent Extra-Fluffy-Kitten.

Finally, I had now got a pet that deserved me.

* * *

 

**A/N: Silly, I know, but I hope you liked it. This story is complete, so the next chapter will be posted shortly :)**


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

I was _not_ amused.

Barely one full day had passed since I had adopted my new pet, and already she’d stuck me into some cramped and uncomfortable basket. She’d carted me down the stairs from her room, where I had spent an agreeable night curled up at the foot of her bed, and stuck me next to a pile of trunks and cages with puffed up owls sitting inside. Is this how things would be?

There was a huge amount of hustle and bustle as ginger kittens, big and small, rushed around the room, making a fool of themselves. I’ll never understand why Two-Legs like running so much. What’s wrong with just curling up on a cushion and sleeping all day?

This basket was very uncomfortable, and, when I heard a Two-Legs nearby, I hissed and spat as loud as I could to show my displeasure. Mostly, they ignored me, though the Ginger-Kitten from before shot me a couple of glares through the bars. I heard my pet however promising to let me out later, and I calmed slightly, deciding to trust her for the meantime. The Ginger-Kitten objected to this, but I didn’t care in the slightest. He was just a Two-Legs. And besides, it was the Not-A-Rat I was after.

I could smell him, even there in the basket, and it made me angrier still. But I decided to wait. Cats are nothing if not patient. Let him sweat a little while.

Before long, me and all the other _luggage_ were being hoisted and deposited into vehicles that whisked me away into the centre of the city, where smoke and other nasty smells met my sensitive nose. Was this where I would be living? I didn’t think much of it.

But, thankfully, it was only temporary. Soon my pet had taken possession of me again and had carried me into some large scarlet contraption that smoked and hissed, like some cross between a chimney and an alley cat. She put me (rather roughly, I may add) into some sort of rack above the heads of the Two-Legs. I was deposited next to a large white owl that I gathered belonged to the Four-Eyed-Kitten. She turned her beady eye on me to look me over, but I hissed at her. I don’t much care for owls, preening their feathers all day and doing errands for Two-Legs like they’re their _servants_  or something. But, it seemed we’d be thrown together pretty often, so I wasn’t as nasty to her as I could be, and refrained from hissing more than was strictly necessary to let her know of my superiority. She could be a valuable ally in finding the Not-A-Rat.

I tried to communicate with her, but this was made difficult by the barriers of our respective cages, so I gave up, determining that I would interrogate her later, perhaps bribe her with a mouse or two. She was no hatchling; she must have spent time with the Ginger-Kitten very often. Surely she had some valuable information to give me?

There was only one other occupant of the room I found myself in, an adult Two-Legs who was curled up asleep. _There_ was a Two-Legs with the right idea!

But a mandatory sniff later, and I drew back, unnerved. He smelled … dog-like. Was he one of those Two-Legs who could turn into animals? And a _dog_ of all things? My respect for him was immediately gone. Who would ever want to be a _dog?_

The scarlet thing I was on began to move, with a great whistling and hissing sound, and the three kittens, my pet included, returned. The smell of the Not-A-Rat also came back, and I bristled involuntarily. A Not-A-Rat and a Not-A-Dog in the one room? I wasn’t pleased.

I was kept crushed into this tiny space for a great deal of time, and I began to resent my pet a little for not letting me out as she promised. She seemed enraptured by what the Four-Eyed-Kitten was saying, something about being him marked for death by some Two-Legs madman, as if that was more important than me. But, soon, as she promised, she released me, despite the Ginger-Kitten’s objections.

I leapt out of my prison. I stretched, pleased to finally feel all my old muscles again and I yawned to let my pet know I wasn’t happy with the delay in releasing me. Then, just to spite the Ginger-Kitten, who had so wanted me kept confined, I leapt onto his knees, hoping to get another sniff at the Not-A-Rat as I did so, happy to see it tremble as I drew close. It evidently knew of the danger I posed. _Good._

The Ginger-Kitten pushed me aside. Actually _pushed_ me! He shouted at me, and I was all for scratching his eyes out when I heard my pet defend me, and quite admirably too. I turned, flicked my tail in his face, smug, and sauntered off to a vacant seat, where I settled myself comfortably. I turned my face continually towards the Ginger-Kitten who continued to glare at me. But all I was focused on was the little ball of fur that was residing in his pocket. I could see it trembling, feel its fear even from this distance. It was quite satisfying.

The journey went on and on, and I was quite happy just to sit there, scaring the life out of the Not-A-Rat, soothed by the steady noise of the vehicle, watching the rain outside with a smug expression. Two more kittens, built like alley cats and smelling just as pleasant, arrived along with their Yellow-Furred leader, but they didn’t stay long. My pet and her companions soon scared them off. Yes, I _definitely_ chose the right pet.

As night fell outside and after awaking from my third cat nap, I felt the vehicle we were on begin to slow down, and I purred in anticipation of being able to get out and chase a few birds, and release my pent up frustration at being denied a shot at the Not-A-Rat.

But, something seemed wrong. The vehicle came to a stop so suddenly, there was a great crashing and trunks and other things began falling from above and the kittens stumbled, and I found myself flying face first into a wall. Yowling unhappily, I leapt back into my seat, only to have the lights be extinguished a second later.

The kittens, stumbled around, completely blind, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Two-Legs. Unable to see in the dark. What a pitiful species.

A couple of more Two-Leg kittens arrived, one of whom greeted me with the sight of his over-large rear coming straight towards me. I hissed and swiped at him, causing a delightful yelp of pain to come from his direction. That would teach him to try and sit on _me._

The adult Two-Legs that smelled like a dog soon took control of the situation, and stood up, holding fire in his hands. Then, everything changed.

The door opened, and in the doorway was a tall, black-robed figure, like no Two-Legs I had ever seen before. The entire room went deathly cold, and I felt it deep inside me, freezing my very insides …

I felt weak …. I felt helpless … I felt the same despair and loneliness I had felt when watching my old Two-Legs walk away from me in that shop …

The thing was breathing, great horrible rattling breaths that frightened me. I wanted it to leave. I wanted to fly at it this very moment and scratch and bite until its cloak was nothing but tattered shreds. But I could not. I was frozen to the spot. I was unable to move. I was _afraid_.

Fortunately, the adult Two-Legs was not. He took out his little stick and shot some silvery looking stuff at it, and it soon fled, and the room seemed to be restored to warmth almost immediately. My limbs became unfrozen, and all I was left with was a feeling of deep shame. I had proven myself to be just as much of a coward as the Not-A-Rat.

I curled up, shivering, trying to calm myself and regain control. I was a cat! I wasn’t about to let some scraps of black cloth scare me!

After a moment or two, I was able to focus once more on my surroundings, and witnessed absolute chaos. The Four-Eyed-Kitten had fallen from his seat and was unconscious on the ground, the others gathered around him.

My first reaction was one of satisfaction, relieved that as scared as I had been, at least _I_ hadn’t fainted, but that satisfaction soon drained away when I saw the face of my pet. She looked terrified, and worried, and was shaking the other kitten, slapping his face and crying out his name, trying to revive him.

I leapt down next to him and seeing that the others seemed to think inflicting pain was the best way to wake him up, nipped his fingers sharply with my teeth. The Four-Eyed-Kitten may mean nothing to me, but my pet seemed to like him. And besides, I needed to stay in his owl’s good books.

He soon woke, and I returned to my seat, determined to have another nap to settle my nerves, and the journey was soon underway again. My pet went to the youngest ginger kitten, a female I thought, and comforted her. She seemed to be as scared as I had been. I decided to join them, and sat on the Younger-Ginger-Kitten’s knee. She smiled and stroked my fur, and I immediately warmed to her. The older Ginger-Kitten may be her litter mate, but I could sense this one liked cats. If I was to eventually kill this Not-A-Rat, I needed to make as many allies as possible.

I could hear him squeaking away, and purred louder. He must be terrified! Serves him right.

After comforting the Ginger-Kitten’s litter mate, my pet saw that I too was trembling, and began stroking me as well, making soothing noises, and I felt my fear begin to fade away.

The journey was soon over, and I was shoved unceremoniously back into that ridiculous basket. The vehicle stopped again (this time more gently), and me, the owl and the rest of the kitten’s possessions were loaded off the scarlet thing, and were deposited onto the ground outside. My pet and her fellow kittens soon walked away, and I felt a sudden feeling of anxiety, wondering if she was abandoning me as well. But, the Four-Eyed-Kitten’s owl, who was next to me, hooted reassuringly, and told me this was all part of the routine, and I’d see her again soon.

I decided to use this opportunity to speak to her now that our cages were facing one another. She was prissy, arrogant and very supercilious, but she seemed willing to talk. I gathered that the Four-Eyed-Kitten had been her pet for over two years, had been her constant companion and she was very fond of him, despite some difficulties, such as being locked in her cage for several weeks at a time. I sniffed disapprovingly; I would not be so loyal to _my_ pet if she treated _me_ that way.

I asked her about the Not-A-Rat, and she hooted disgruntledly. She’d had a few swipes at the Not-A-Rat before as well, but had never been able to reach him. Owl’s lived in the Owlry, and she wasn’t around enough to try and catch him herself. I purred happily when she told me that cats live with their pets all year. I would have the access she had been denied. She wished me luck.

She then went on and on about her pet, and I lost a little interest. She had paid far more attention to the kitten’s conversation than I had, and was concerned for her pet, since some other Two-Legs seemed to be wanting to kill him. Well, if he kept his companion locked up all the time, what did he expect? She’d be better off with a different pet.

But she was incredibly loyal, telling me all about her pet and his accomplishments, and his special role amongst the Two-Legs, and I admit, I got a little bored. How special could a Two-Legs be?

She talked about him with as much pride if he had been one of her own hatchlings, and I resisted the urge to hiss at her. How could she be so doting over a Two-Legs? It was embarrassing.

Soon, little elf creatures came towards us, and levitated us all with a snap of their fingers, taking us up to a large castle, which would evidently be my new home. I purred in approval. It certainly looked grand enough for someone of my intelligence. I was looking forward to exploring my new domain.

Before long, myself and my pet’s trunk had been left in a room with several beds inside it, a comfy looking room with a warm atmosphere. I was let out of my basket and leapt up into the nearest bed, waiting for my pet to arrive. I stretched out on a bed that vaguely smelled like her and watched the door expectantly.

I was kept waiting a _long_ time. My stomach growled, and I felt my patience slipping. Did she think she could just leave me here like this? No food? No praises? No treats?

I stalked the room, very displeased, resolved to show my displeasure the moment she walked into the room, scratching at bed posts and curtains as I did so. Surely she didn’t think I was going to sit around and wait for her all the time? She was _my_ pet, she was supposed to serve _me!_

Perhaps I had made a mistake choosing her as my pet. That Floating-Cloak-Thing, and the fact that an angry Two-Legs was trying to kill and presumably eat her best friend meant that remaining here could be dangerous. The owl had told me many fantastical things about my pet and her friends, and I wondered whether I had let myself in for a lot of trouble. Was she worth all this risk? I had gotten here. I could leave at any moment. I didn’t have to live with her in order to go after the Not-A-Rat. This castle was huge. I’m sure any of the others would be happy to take in such a gorgeous cat.

After an age, I heard footsteps, and the door burst open, and several female kittens burst through it, giggling loudly and I hissed at them. They stared at me, and drew back, evidently afraid.

“What _is_ that thing?”

“Look at its face! It’s all funny-looking!”

“I hope he doesn’t get that ginger hair all over my robes.”

That was it. I was ready for the pounce. How _dare_ they talk about me like that? Arrogant Two-Legs …

“Don’t worry, he’s my new cat. He won’t be any trouble at all!”

My pet had arrived behind the other kittens, and I turned my anger towards her for abandoning me, but I was stopped by the pleasant aromas that were issuing from her left pocket. She sat on her bed, and I leapt up beside her expectantly. She withdrew a small napkin from her pocket and unwrapped it, displaying strips of cold meat, still warm sausages, and a few other delicious looking tidbits.

I immediately forgave her.

As I sat munching away at my goodies, the other kittens began to get ready for bed, wearing ridiculously frilly pink things and still giggling inanely, chatting about what sounded like male kittens and how tall they’d grown over the summer. All the while, my pet sat beside me, having quickly changed into a plain nightdress, and clambered under the covers with a book, ignoring the others completely. I don’t quite understand what books are, or why Two-Legs like them, but I gathered reading one usually makes a Two-Legs rather isolated.

The other kittens had noticed her, and were giggling again, but this time, quieter, and they nodded to her with smiles on their faces that seemed anything but friendly. They were brushing each other’s hair and laughing, pointing at my pet, who didn’t look up from the page in front of her. From what my superior hearing was able to make out, they seemed to be making comments about her hair, and how bushy it was.

My hackles rose, and I hurriedly swallowed the last of my meal, glowering at them. My pet’s hair was almost as fluffy as my own, though perhaps not as pretty. How dare they think themselves better than either of us? As if their own hair was anywhere near as nice as mine or my pet’s.

I hissed at them, and they drew back, wide-eyed, and I turned my back on them pointedly. I padded over to my pet and curled myself up on her lap, making sure the other kittens saw what I was doing, letting my pet reach out and scratch me behind the ears. She smiled at me, with eyes that seemed slightly watery, and I purred to comfort her. She was intelligent, kind, and worthy of my affection. Those other kittens were worthless.

I prepared myself for a long snooze. She was _my_ pet, _I_ had chosen her. I shouldn’t doubt my own judgment. This pet, as nice as she was, and as convenient as she was for getting me towards my goals, she needed me.

It was a long time since any Two-Legs had needed me.

Maybe this Two-Legs was worth it.

 

 

 

                                                       

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

I soon found that I liked this castle, _Hogwarts_ , it was called, or something equally as ridiculous. It was large, there were many mice and other small rodents to chase, plenty of roaring fireplaces and cosy chairs to curl up on. My pet was away all day with the other kittens, leaving plenty of time to lie around and nap. Then when she came back, I’d sit with her a while as she did some work at a table in the evening, then I’d go out chasing things, only to come back and curl up at her feet again. Yes, a good life indeed.

But the Not-A-Rat was still out of my reach.

What was the use in chasing other rats, mice and spiders when this _Two-Legs_ still posed as one of them? Every catch seemed hollow. I wanted to find him, sink my teeth into his wriggling body and hear him squeak and beg for mercy. It was an irritating niggle at the back of my mind that no amount of tasty treats and rubbed bellies could cure.

But I wasn’t impatient. The Not-A-Rat wasn’t going anywhere; that Ginger-Kitten had him constantly under supervision. Maybe biding my time would be worth it, increase his dread, his fear, make this final kill that much more satisfying. I needed time to perfect my plan. And besides, I enjoyed my new life. I was in no rush to go chasing after scum like that. I didn’t want to risk my pet’s anger. She cared about the Ginger-Kitten, and I didn’t want to upset her, especially as she seemed very tired all the time. I wanted to figure out a way of capturing the Not-A-Rat without angering her.

But, he just angered me so much. Every time I saw him, every time I smelled his scent, I was angry. Two-Legs turning into animals was alright, as long as it was temporary, but this Two-Legs was insulting the entirety of the Animal Kingdom by remaining in this form. Did he really think he could get away with it?

I couldn’t often find him, though I could always smell him. The Ginger-Kitten was hiding him from me deliberately. I could find him if I wanted by pawing through all their possessions, but then they’d all know I was more intelligent than they thought, and I liked having the advantage. Many foolish Two-Legs say things in front of cats without realising we know exactly what they’re saying. It was one of the main reasons we’re the superior species.

The Four-Eyed-Kitten’s owl was no use; I hardly ever saw her, only finding out from her one afternoon that the Ginger-Kitten called the Not-A-Rat Scabbers. All the other cats in the castle were happy just to let him be. They knew what he was, but they didn’t care. They didn’t want to do anything about it. Great big balls of lazy fur … called themselves _cats_ …

I had also soon found out the reason behind the strange scent of the adult Two-Legs that had fought off the Floating-Cloak-Thing. He was a Man-Wolf, one of those strange creatures that changed involuntarily into an animal every full moon. I had heard him, and smelled his full animal form one evening as I chased a rat down a corridor, and stopped outside the door to his room. He had sounded miserable. For a moment I had considered trying to open the door and recruit him to my cause, but the smell put me off. Wolf he may be, but he still smelled of dog. And I hate dog.

There was a dog in the grounds of the castle, I knew for a fact. I had smelled him occasionally on my night hunts, but he had never shown himself, which I found odd. Dogs are remarkably dim-witted creatures, and can’t seem to survive without a Two-Legs to look after them. I thought it strange that a dog should be living out in the forest with no Two-Legs contact whatsoever. From what I knew of the temperament of dogs, they needed constant contact with Two-Legs to be happy.

His scent too was strange, something I couldn’t quite put my paw on. I tried tracking him, but never succeeded in finding him until my interest waned, and I went back to chasing things, or back to the castle to sleep. Another mission to add to the list.

Day by day, my frustration with the Not-A-Rat grew and grew until it was almost unbearable. I wanted him dead, I wanted him to know he had been finally caught. I wanted to see the fear in his little watery eyes …

 About a month or so after I had arrived into my new life, my chance came. I caught a spider, a particularly large and nasty one that I’d stalked all the way around the castle, and ran back to the common room to my pet who was sitting by the fire with the Ginger-Kitten and the Four-Eyed one. I sprang up into her lap to show off my kill proudly, letting her know who was boss in our relationship.

“Does he have to eat that in front of us?” the Ginger-Kitten asked, scowling at me. Immediately, my good mood evaporated.

“Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?” my pet said, and I almost gave a massive cat-sigh. Of _course_ I caught it by myself, you silly Two-Legs. I’m a cat! I appreciated her praise however, though I’d never much cared for the name my former pet had given me. Imagine, someone actually suggesting _I_ had crooked legs!

So, I made myself comfortable, and stared insolently at the Ginger-Kitten. I had never planned to eat the spider (far too crunchy for my liking), but now, seeing that it bothered him, I slowly chewed it up, keeping my eyes fixed on his face. He scowled, and warned my pet to keep me away from him. As if I’d go over to him anyway.

Then, he said the phrase that changed everything.

“I’ve got Scabbers asleep in my bag.”

Immediately, I was alert, and quickly swallowed the remains of the spider, thinking hard. I sat stiff, flicking my tail occasionally, staring unblinkingly at the Ginger-Kitten before me, weighing up my options. Did I dare attack? Would I have another opportunity like this again?

I made up my mind. I pounced.

Quicker than lightning, I had landed on the Ginger-Kitten, aiming for his bag, blood-lust running through my veins. I sank my claws into it, ferociously ripping at the bag, already hearing the pitiful creature’s squeaks of terror. I tore faster and faster, spurred on by the anger I felt when the Ginger-Kitten shouted at me and called me a stupid animal. Stupid was I? At least I wasn’t fooled by a pathetic Two-Legs pretending to be a rat!

He grabbed me, and tried to pull me away, but I sank my claws into his hand, determined not to let go, spitting and tearing at the bag, looking for the flick of a whisker, slither of a tail-

My pet screamed at him to leave me alone, but he whirled the bag around, and I held tight. Finally, the Not-A-Rat came flying out the top.

Immediately, I let go, and raced after the Not-A-Rat, who had begun to scurry away as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. Unfortunately, he had a head start.

He dove underneath an old chest of drawers, the both of us avoiding the Two-Legs that tried to catch us, and I skidded to a halt, swiping my paw underneath to try and catch him. He couldn’t get away!

Then, my pet seized me around the middle, and hoisted me away, though I yowled and struggled to get free. She pulled me close, and the Ginger-Kitten got the Not-A-Rat out from underneath the drawers, wriggling almost as fiercely. He shouted at my pet, actually shouted at her! I felt outraged on her behalf.

“That cat’s got in in for Scabbers!” I heard him yell, and I realised then he knew I was more intelligent than I let on. This would make my job far more tricky.

He left the room, carrying the imposter with him, and my pet carried me to her own room, and threw me down on her bed. I stretched out, unconcerned. I’d get him later, I vowed to myself. I wouldn’t let that silly Ginger-Kitten get in my way. That Not-A-Rat was dangerous. He was a liar and imposter, who knew what threat he posed to my pet? I wouldn’t let him get away with this.

Then, I heard a sniffing from beside me. I turned to find my pet wiping at her eyes, tears dripping into her lap. I was immediately on guard, having learned a long time ago that tears from a Two-Legs meant something awful. But, as nothing happened, I realised something else was wrong.

“Oh, Crookshanks,” she sniffed. “I wish you wouldn’t. I think Ron hates me enough as it is without you trying to kill Scabbers. Why do you have to go after him all the time?”

It was then I realised that it was because of me that she was upset. At first I was angry. Didn’t she know I was trying to _protect_ her? How could she stick up for that Not-A-Rat and its foolish protector? Didn’t she know how dangerous that slimeball was?

No, she didn’t, I reminded myself. Two-Legs aren’t very intelligent creatures. She didn’t have a clue. She was just a kitten. And I had let her down.

I hadn’t wanted to upset her. I had promised myself not to attack the Not-A-Rat in front of her, and I had let her down. I felt incredibly guilty for no apparent reason.

I padded up to her, feeling slightly ashamed of myself. She looked up, and scratched me behind the ears. I snuggled closer and purred loudly, letting her know that I was sorry to have caused her any sadness. She smiled and hugged me closer.

I put up with this indignity for a few moments, before struggling loose. She wasn’t bad, as Two-Legs went.

I’d protect her from this imposter. I’d get him. I just wouldn’t let her know about it. She endured enough bullying from other kittens without me giving them reason to hate her. I’d have to be more sneaky from now on.

So, I made a new resolution. Bide my time. No more foolish pranks like that one. I continued my leisurely lifestyle, hissed at the Ginger-Kitten whenever he passed and got a scowl in return, and waited for the perfect moment to pounce. The perfect moment to kill.

I also kept a closer eye on my pet. She seemed very tired all of the time, and upset. So I sat by her many evenings, keeping her company, thinking that the more time she spent with me and not with the Ginger-Kitten the better off she’d be. I found her in tears more than once, and allowed myself to be cuddled by her, suffering this indignity for as long as it took to get her smiling again, which wasn’t long. I wasn’t the fluffiest cat at the school for nothing, after all.

I also spent more and more time out in the grounds, tracking down that strange smell, knowing somehow that this was no mere dog I was after. Anything to distract me from the Not-A-Rat was good for me.

Every night, I stalked it, and every night, it evaded me. My anger grew. I was a cat, the best stalker in the Animal Kingdom! It wouldn’t be beyond my reach for long.

Then, one night, a couple of hours before dawn, I finally stumbled upon the creature I’d been tracking. It was in a clearing in front of me, sitting there, not even attempting to hide. I sprang forwards, without fear, not caring it was several times larger than me, not caring it could swallow me in one go. This strange creature _would_ explain itself.

Then, as the creature turned towards me, I drew back hissing. It was a Two-Legs!

I spat at it, and glared, taking in its form with narrowed eyes. A Two-Legs, pretending to be a dog. It was massive, larger than any dog I had ever seen, black and shaggy, absolutely no respect for its appearance. I continued spitting at it, the Not-A-Dog. Just like the Not-A-Rat; how dare this creature insult animalkind?

I didn’t try to pounce however, unlike the Not-A-Rat, this thing could actually kill me if it tried, but I wouldn’t let it away easily. I meowed at it as loudly as I could, and took a couple of warning swipes at its muzzle, my claws flashing.

But, to my surprise, the Not-A-Dog did not look afraid. It just sat there, its head cocked to one side in that ridiculous way dogs do that makes them look like simpletons. I spat at it some more, but the Not-A-Dog did not back off. It stared at me, with great shining eyes, looking interested, intrigued, thoughtful, anything but afraid.

This made me more angry. How arrogant was he? This was _my_ domain, _my_ castle. How dare he!

For good measure, I leapt forwards, and scratched his hindquarters with as much strength as I could, hopeful that might get my message across. But the Not-A-Dog just yelped, jumped back and continued staring at me. He looked more interested than ever.

_Get lost,_ I tried to tell him. _You are not welcome here. You are an imposter. Leave this place._

The Not-A-Dog looked surprised, and, to my great chagrin, actually stepped closer. His jaw dropped, and looked so ridiculously like a Two-Legs I could hardly restrain myself. He continued stepping closer.

_Get lost!_ I tried to tell him once again. Were all Two-Legs this stupid, or was it only because he was in dog form?

_Help me._

I froze in amazement, as the Not-A-Dog seemed to communicate with me, his large, sad eyes boring into mine. _Help me_ , he seemed to say again, his words slow and painstaking, heavily accented and near impossible to make out.

I growled. Like I would help a Two-Legs imposter, particularly a canine one. He may have worked out how to communicate, but he was still a liar, just like the Not-A-Rat.

_Leave,_ I told him once more, spat at him again, and turned tail and left, fuming at the audacity of the creature. As if _I_ would help an imposter like that!

I found my way back to my pet’s bedside, opening doors as I went with my old practiced dexterity that all the cats in the castle envied, and curled up at her feet, prepared for a long snooze to ease my shattered nerves. _Another_ Two-Legs imposter? This castle was swarming with them!

Well, I thought to myself. I’ll be damned if I let either of them harm my pet. I’d settle them both. One way or another.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

The next few weeks were spent in the same manner. Lying sleeping all day, keeping an eye on the Not-A-Rat, comforting my pet where I could, and spending my evenings and nights attempting to chase away the Not-A-Dog.

He was persistent certainly, and was there every evening in the grounds, actually seeking me out, as though I would help him. He followed me, whining, repeating the same phrase over and over again (probably the only phrase he knew how to say) and trailing in my wake, pathetically hanging on, acting very much like the animal he was pretending to be.

He seemed to refuse to acknowledge the phrase: _Get lost._ He completely ignored me, begging for help again and again. I hissed at him, spat at him, clawed him, but still, he stayed. He put up with so much abuse from me I almost began to respect him.

Things were not progressing well with the Not-A-Rat either. I could not get to him. The Ginger-Kitten had him in his pocket at all times, or locked in his room where I could not reach him, and I began to despair of ever killing him.

The Ginger-Kitten still hated me, and I still hated him. He scowled at me wherever possible, and aimed kicks at me whenever I went near him, though he never actually made contact. Weak fool. No courage to actually take action. No wonder cats are superior.

My pet was still struggling, and I spent a great deal of time with her. She was good to me, much better than my old pet had been, and always had time for me, even when she was buried in her books. The Ginger-Kitten didn’t deserve her friendship.

The Not-A-Rat was under such constant guard, I spent hours at a time trying to figure out a way to open the lock to the male kitten’s bedroom, but to no avail. I persisted however, determined one day to finally be able to open it. I lurked in dark corridors, following the male kittens into their bedroom before the door shut, but the damn Ginger-Kitten always spotted me, and kicked me out.

I’d get him back for this one day. Stupid fool didn’t know I was trying to help him.

Times like these were when I considered recruiting the Not-A-Dog to my campaign; surely he was large enough to break down the door? But I always shied away from the thought, repulsed with myself for even considering it. He was just as bad as the Not-A-Rat; if he was half the size, he’d be in danger too.

I was mulling this over one evening as I stalked the corridors, searching for spiders or mice to eat, trying to avoid the caretaker’s cat, that seemed to have taken a shine to me, when the stench of the Not-A-Dog met my nostrils. I froze, and then immediately raced off, following my nose, outraged that the creature had dared enter _my_ castle.

I entered the corridor that led to the rooms slept in by the kittens and stopped just a short of the portrait of the fat Two-Legs with pink fur, and saw not a dog, but a man. Immediately, I realised the truth of the situation. The Not-A-Dog had changed into his Two-Legs form. It was difficult to see which form was the more attractive. The Two-Legs was just as dirty, smelly, matted and skeleton-like as the dog had been, and acted just as stupidly. He seemed to be arguing with the fat Two-Legs.

“Come on! Let me in!” he was yelling, his voice sounding like a bark.

“No entry without the password!” the fat Two-Legs was saying, her voice squeaking with terror in the same way the Not-A-Rat did whenever I came near.

“You _know_ me! I used to come here! I’m a Gryffindor! Please, help me!”

“I can’t. No entry without the password!” the fat Two-Legs continued, her voice quivering with fear. A mad light came into the Not-A-Dog’s eyes. He brandished a dagger at her, one of those foolish weapons Two-Legs seemed to find superior to having claws.

“I’m warning you, let me in!” he said, his hand shaking on the hilt.

She screamed and threw her hands above her head. “No!” she cried. “I will not let you! You’ve killed before, and I won’t let you do it again. I won’t let you harm the Potter boy!”

Potter? I knew that name; it was the Four-Eyed-Kitten’s name. This Not-A-Dog was after a friend of my pet? Now I was happier than ever that I had not trusted him.

The Not-A-Dog seemed to falter, and a dead light came into his eyes. “Harry …”

“Leave this castle, you murderer!”

The manic light was back again, and he waved his knife again. “Oh, I’m no murderer. Not yet at least.”

And he slashed his knife at the portrait, sending the fat Two-Legs running into an adjoining portrait as fast as her bulk could carry her, screaming hysterically. Though she was long gone, the Not-A-Dog continued slashing at the portrait, crying in frustration, great strips of canvas dropping to the floor like confetti. He sobbed hard, and dropped the dagger, clutching at his head, pulling at his hair in torment.

He slumped to the ground, and crouched on his knees.

“I need to find you, Harry,” he mumbled to himself. “I need to find you …”

My suspicions had been confirmed. He was after the Four-Eyed-Kitten, and possibly my pet as well. I wouldn’t stand for this. I remembered the conversation on the scarlet vehicle that had brought us to the castle, the conversation the white owl had been so concerned about. This was the Two-Legs that was trying to kill the kitten.

I crept towards him, claws at the ready to attack him at his most vulnerable. I inched closer and closer, feeling the fire within me growing as I anticipated sinking my teeth into this imposter. He was a Two-Legs now, his teeth could not harm me in this form.

Then, something made me stop dead.

“The rat,” he mumbled, clutching his dagger tightly. “I need to get to the rat. That scheming, stinking, filthy, no-good liar. I’ll kill him for what he did. You see if I don’t, James.”

I had no idea who James was, and neither did I care to be honest, but … he was after the rat? My interest was piqued. I slunk into the shadows. Why on earth would a Two-Legs imposter be after another Two-Legs imposter? It made no sense.

After a while, the Two-Legs came to his senses, and hearing people in the distance, transformed into a dog, and sank into the shadows and crept away. I followed, determined to get my answers.

I waited until he was out of the castle, out of the grounds and far into the forest before making my move. He had curled up in the clearing before us, whining as he tried to get comfortable on the ground, resting his miserable head on his paws. I stepped out before him.

He leapt to his feet and growled, and I realised he was not in a good mood, but I stood my ground. I had the upper-hand here, and I was determined to let him see that.

_You want the Not-A-Rat?_ I tried to ask him. He looked confused, as all dogs do, and seemed to frown. He spoke, his words still slow and uncertain as he adjusted to communicating like an animal.

_Not-A-Rat?_

_A Two-Legs pretending._

Immediately, his hackles rose, and he came towards me, looking eager. I stared levelly back at him, claws at the ready.

_What do you know about him?_

I paused a moment, unsure whether to trust this Not-A-Dog.

_My pet is friends with the Ginger-Kitten._

_The Weasley boy?_

_… yes. That is what she calls him._

He looked excited now.

_You know he’s not a real rat?_

I spat with displeasure. _Of course! I am not stupid. Just as I know you are not a dog. Why do you want the Not-A-Rat?_

He growled, and looked so menacing I almost took a step back. His eyes seem to darken.

_He killed my friends. He threatens my godson. I want him dead._

_So do I,_ I responded. _I will not let you stand in my way. Two-Legs who impersonate animals deserve what they get._

He bounded forwards.

_Bring him to me. Let me kill him. You have access to where I cannot go._

_I want to kill him. I need to protect my pet._

_I need my revenge!_

I spat at him once more. _I will not help a Two-Legs imposter. Get to him yourself. My only concern is myself and my pet._

He growled, but I was beyond caring, and sauntered off through the woods, leaving him frustrated.

Having the Not-A-Dog on my side may be helpful, but I’d be damned if I’d make it that easy for him. I’d keep him waiting until _I_ was ready. Until I had figured out how to make the best use of my new ally.

 

* * *

 

“You know, I reckon Ron was right about you,” the Four-Eyed-Kitten told me, after catching me trying to sneak into his room. “There are plenty of mice around this place, go and chase them. Go on, leave Scabbers alone.” He nudged me with his foot, his _foot. Oh, the indignity._

I wasn’t best pleased about being grabbed by the tail and dragged backwards, especially as it continued to happen the rest of the morning every time I tried to sneak back up into the dormitory. I eventually decided to give up. The Four-Eyed-Kitten would almost surely tell my pet on me if he saw me attack the Not-A-Rat. I sat on the chair opposite instead and eyed him carefully, thinking over everything new I had learned about him in the time that I’d been meeting the Not-A-Dog in the grounds.

The Not-A-Dog had told me everything, though his ‘speech’ was still hard to understand. The Four-Eyed-Kitten was his godson, and the Not-A-Rat had framed him for the kitten’s parent’s murders. He wanted revenge on the Not-A-Rat, and the chance to get to know the Four-Eyed-Kitten. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why he was bothering. This kitten was just as stupid as his ginger friend.

The Not-A-Dog begged me every evening to help him capture the Not-A-Rat, but I had still not decided to help him.  I wanted to kill the Not-A-Rat, but the Not-A-Dog wanted to do it too, and we couldn’t both be satisfied. The Not-A-Dog begged me, telling me that it was his right to kill him, and I suppose it made sense, and I was almost inclined to help him. Almost.

And I was still wary of trusting someone who pretended to be an animal.

But strangely, the following evening when next I met him, he was less concerned about the Not-A-Rat.

_Is Harry alright?_ He asked as soon as he saw me.

I yawned and stretched. _How should I know?_

_He fell fifty feet from his broom during the Quidditch match. Is he hurt?_

_I’d imagine so,_ I answered, not knowing or caring what Quidditch was.

_Answer me!_

I eyed him with annoyance, and cast back my mind to what I’d heard my pet and the Ginger-Kitten discussing earlier.

_He is in the … Hospital Wing, but alive. The broom hit the Moving-Tree though. It is matchwood._

The Not-A-Dog whined. _Poor Harry. If he’s anything like his father, he’ll be devastated about that broom …_

I curled up on the ground, not listening. What did I care for the Four-Eyed-Kitten and his broom?

The Not-A-Dog had turned his attention back to me.

_Have you agreed to help me?_

I purred with a smug smile. _Not yet._

_How long will you take? Peter could hurt Harry or his friends at any time! That includes your pet, you know!_

Despite myself, I flinched. My pet, stressed by the work she was doing needed no further complications to her life.

_I don’t trust you,_ I said instead. _You are as much an imposter as the Not-A-Rat. Why are you any better? Why do you insult me by turning into an animal?_

The Not-A-Dog growled slightly, but settled back on his haunches, and looked down at his paws.

_It was to help a friend. We turned so we could help him, me, Peter and Harry’s dad. He turned into an animal involuntarily every month, and we wanted to be by his side._

_Ah, the Wolf-Man. Lupin._

_You know him?_ The Not-A-Dog had turned on me. _Is he here?_

_Yes, he looks after the kittens. He lives here._

The Not-A-Dog seemed to bark in delight. _Excellent, then Harry is in good hands. I always knew Moony would make a great teacher._

I began licking my paws, bored by the turn in the conversation. I didn’t care about the Wolf-Man. But I was intrigued that he had turned into an animal to help a friend.

_The Not-A-Rat, he wanted to help this friend too?_

_Yes._

_But he turned against you. Killed the Four-Eyed-Kitten’s parents._

_Yes, he did. He betrayed us all. He has no honour._

My anger increased as I heard this. Cats are naturally self-serving creatures, but this was beyond even the most ambitious of cats.

_And why should I help you?_

The Not-A-Dog fixed me with a long stare.

_Because you are not as carefree as you pretend. You love your pet, and Peter’s presence endangers her as well._

 He had a point. I carefully finished my bath, and rose to my feet, stretched and yawned, not letting him see how his words had affected me.

_I’ll think about it._

* * *

 

And think about it I did, for a long while. I lay stretched out before the fire one evening in the common room before the fire, when I heard my pet and her friends discussing the very creature I had been thinking about: Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, the Not-A-Dog and the Not-A-Rat themselves.

They spoke about betrayal, and murder and a whole host of other things whilst I stretched and preened my beautiful fur, enjoying the quivering of the Ginger-Kitten’s pocket as it sensed my presence.

Was he listening right now? Did he hear his name and regret what he had done? Did he feel guilty for ripping away the parents of his pet’s closest friend? Evidently not.

I listened, and listened and listened as the Four-Eyed-Kitten talked about everything, having apparently swallowed the lies told to him about his godfather and the Not-A-Rat. I heard the pain in his voice, the anger, the grief.

And then I heard my pet, almost in tears, pleading with him not to do anything stupid. She cared about him, she really cared about him, in a way that she didn’t care about me. She loved this Four-Eyed-Kitten, and the Ginger-Kitten (though I had no idea why) and she wanted to protect them both.

But they all were mistaken. The Not-a-Dog, Black, he had done nothing wrong (well, except impersonate an animal), and _he_ was the one they hated. The true villain was the one lurking in the Ginger-Kitten’s pocket. He was the one who had caused the Four-Eyed-Kitten such pain, he was the one who was causing my pet so much grief on his behalf.

And none of them had any idea.

Hours later, I crept out into the grounds to find the Not-A-Dog waiting for me. I sat before him, and casually began grooming my paw.

_Perhaps you are right,_ I said to him. _My pet is in danger. I must protect her. I will help you._

The Not-A-Dog’s tail began to wag, making him look dopier and ungainly than ever.

_Thank you._

_I’m doing this for my pet, remember. The Four-Eyed-Kitten is up to you. I will help you get the Not-A-Rat. That’s all._

_Agreed, but can you do one favour first?_

 

* * *

 

I meowed my displeasure as I padded through the village, a piece of salvaged and crumpled parchment in my mouth with some scribblings on it in stolen ink, making my way to the building with all the owls, feeling like an owl myself. This was the last favour I did for the Not-A-Dog.

I had no clue what a mail-order form was, nor a Firebolt, nor a Gringotts vault, but I wasn’t happy about being used as a messenger-cat.

I pushed my way into the owl-building, deposited my parchment on the counter before a very astonished Two-Legs, and scarpered, before any of them could attempt to stroke me with their ink covered hands.

This Not-A-Dog had better not make a habit of getting me to do favours like this.

I was in this to get that Not-A-Rat away from my pet.

She was all I cared about.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

I don't know why I put up with this. I am far too dignified, too important to endure this.

My …  _pet,_ in her infinite wisdom, had decided to  _decorate_  me for Christmas like I was some sort of tree. Sitting on her bed as she unwrapped her presents, scratching at the itchy tinsel she had tied around my neck, I wondered why I bothered trying to protect her.

I'd done as the Not-A-Dog asked and kept an eye on the Not-A-Rat, which was made easier by the fact that most of the kittens had gone home for Christmas, a silly Two-Legs tradition I neither understood, nor cared about. But the stench of the Not-A-Rat was also increased, and so I was able to track him better. He stuck to the Ginger-Kitten's side like brambles stuck to my fluffy coat whenever I went bird-hunting. He knew I couldn't take him there with the Ginger-Kitten watching. My pet would not approve.

Then again, I don't exactly approve of this silly material she's tied around my neck. I'm not a doll she can play with! I was moments away from ripping the infernal stuff off and fleeing before she tied it back on again, when she suddenly came and sat by my side with a large parcel wrapped in brightly coloured paper.

"This is for you, Crookshanks," she crooned softly, pulling me on to her lap. I immediately stopped trying to bite off the tinsel and my ears perked up. For me?

"Shall we see what's inside?" she asked, smiling, and began to unwrap it. I offered my teeth as assistance, and before long, the wrappings were discarded. It was a little fake mouse, enchanted to run away and squeak realistically. I followed its progress around the room with eager eyes, wanting to spring from my position to chase it.

"Maybe you'll chase this instead of Scabbers," she said to me, and hugged me quickly.  _Not likely_ , I thought privately; it wouldn't be nearly as satisfying to catch. But it would offer me some practice, and some light entertainment.

I pushed my face into her hand and purred loudly to let her know her gesture was appreciated, and she responded with another hug. Then she seized me around the middle (something I  _didn't_  appreciate) and carried me with her into down the stairs and up towards the male kitten's sleeping area, and into the room with the Ginger-Kitten and Four-Eyed-Kitten.

Immediately, my grumpiness vanished, and I could not believe my luck at being carried into their room. The stench of the Not-A-Rat was almost unbearable.

My pet dropped me on a vacant bed, and I saw her talk to the other kittens about a new present. I cast one uninterested look over it, and saw a broomstick, most likely the one the Not-A-Dog had had me order for him. What a waste of time and money. Trust a dog to give a  _stick_  as a present.

Instead of concerning myself with it, I settled down and stared at the pocket of the Ginger-Kitten, looking for the slightest twitch, the tiniest glimpse of a whisker, anything that would betray my prey's location. I seemed to forget all my earlier promises to not attack the Not-A-Rat in front of my pet, but how could I pass up an opportunity like this? He was  _right there!_

I got ready to pounce, willing to not let this be another near-escape. I may never get this chance again. My pet needn't see me kill the creature, I had promised to bring him unharmed to the Not-A-Dog, she wouldn't mind. I needed to get him-

I leapt straight towards the Ginger-Kitten, my teeth bared, my claws extended, the moment I saw a twitch, the moment I knew exactly where the imposter lay. I heard him squeak in terror as I landed on his pet, and my resolve only increased.  _Just a little closer_.

"GET-HIM-OUT-OF-HERE!" the Ginger-Kitten yelled as I scratched as his clothes and the Not-A-Rat made his escape over his shoulder. I made to follow him determined not to let him escape again, but the Ginger-Kitten seized him, and aimed a kick at me, which I only just avoided.

I span around, fuming, raging that this kitten thought he could kick  _me._  Then I had a moment of brief amusement as I realised the kitten had missed me and kicked a trunk instead, and was howling in pain like some pitiful dog.  _Serve him right._

Then, my fur stood on end, as a shrill whistling sound filled the room. I stood on edge, trying to figure out where this new threat was coming from, disliking its loud sound. It was some sort of spinning top, and was whistling and whirling around. I did  _not_  like it, and hissed and spat at it.

It seemed this did not endear me to my pet's friends.

"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," said the Ginger-Kitten furiously, and my pet lifted me up to carry me out of the room. I did not like the way that kitten shouted at my pet, and so glared at him as I was taken away, furious at him for daring to insult her. Stupid oaf, too simple to know how much danger his ignorance was putting my pet in.

It seemed I was in the bad books from then on, and my pet shut me into her room, magically locking the door so I could not get out, no matter how much I yowled. I had a brief glimpse of her watery eyes before she closed the door on me.

"Oh, Crookshanks, why can't you just behave?"

I stalked the room for hours, ripping apart the wrapping paper she had left lying, in a foul mood. Why can't I behave? Why can't I behave? I'm trying to save your life, you silly kitten! I'm trying to protect you from a murderer! It's not my fault your silly kitten friend is too stupid to recognise a Two-Legs in disguise.

I was ready to fly at her when she came in that evening, many hours later, wanting to sneak past her and go after the Not-A-Rat, to prove to her that he was not what he seemed, to make it up to her for ruining her morning and making the Ginger-Kitten angry with her. But one look stopped me in my tracks.

Her face was pink, and tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she ran straight over to her bed where she collapsed, sobbing heavily. I paused, unsure what to do. Was she hurt? What had happened?

Hearing her miserable cries touched something deep within me, reminded me of a despair from a long time ago, from my own kittenhood, where all the other kittens had teased me for being half-Kneazle, for having such fluffy (and often unruly) fur and a squashed face. She had left the door open, I could sneak out without much difficulty, go after the Not-A-Rat, take him to the Not-A-Dog, but something prevented me from leaving her there in such unhappiness.

So, slowly, ever so slowly, I crossed the room, and softly sprang up onto the bed, pawing at her arm gently, pressing her to uncover her face. She did so, and looked at me, more tears streaming from her eyes as she did so. She reached out and pulled me closer, and for once, I didn't mind.

She buried her face into my fur, wetting it and overall messing it up. "They just don't understand," she was telling me. "I'm just so worried about Harry, and Black coming after him. I wanted him to be safe, but Ron just doesn't understand; that broom could be from anybody! And all cats chase rats, after all. Why can't he see that? Why does he always think I'm deliberately trying to upset him? And I'm keeping this Time-Turner thing from them all and I can't bear it. I'm just so-  _tired_  all the time. I just can't talk to them anymore!"

I listened patiently, though I did not understand half of what she was wailing about, and obviously had no way of replying since Two-Legs were completely unable to grasp normal speech. But I let her know that I was there, and let her stroke me, even if she was a bit rough in her despair. I settled myself close to her, and purred loudly, since that seemed to comfort her, flicking my tail into her face to tickle her, rubbing my face against her fingers. Then I got up, and chased the little mouse she had given me all around the room, leaping over beds and throwing the little mouse up into the air to catch it. This made her laugh, and so I continued long after the novelty had worn off for me.

After an age, I settled myself back on the bed beside her, and curled up to go to sleep, her hand resting softly on my back, her tears now long since subsided. I yawned, and prepared for a long snooze. The Not-A-Rat could wait until the morning. My pet needed me.

* * *

 

The next several weeks passed much the same way. I rarely ever saw the not-A-Rat, since my pet had ceased to spend much time with the two male kittens. She spent hours and hours surrounded by dusty old books, buried in sheets of parchment, rubbing her temples and constantly looking close to breaking point.

I didn't understand what was so important about these books, or why they upset her so, but I gathered that she liked having me sitting beside her to comfort her, so that's what I did. The other two kittens seemed to ignore her, and whilst I was happy she was no longer in contact with the Not-A-Rat, being ignored by the Ginger-Kitten caused her a lot of unhappiness. Therefore, I was as nasty to him as I could be. I lurked under tables to scratch his ankles, I left  _presents_ , underneath his bed, I chewed up his shoes and scratched his sheets. First he adopts a murderer, now he's cruel to my pet? I would not stand for that.

In all of this commotion, my patience for the Not-A-Dog was wearing thin.

 _Why won't you bring me the rat?_  He asked me constantly.

I just licked my paws and acted unconcerned.  _My pet is more important. She is unhappy. Your godson is being cruel to her._

_My godson would never be cruel._

_Whatever,_ I said casually.  _All I know is that she spends most of her time crying._

 _She'll end up dead unless you help me,_  the Not-A-Dog growled.  _Bring me the rat._

I fixed him with a beady glare.  _I will not upset her further. If I go after the Not-A-Rat, she'll be angry with me, and the other kittens will hate her._

The Not-A-Dog's growl got louder.  _You promised you would help me!_

_I am a cat. I need help nobody._

His growls only increased.  _If you will not help me, I will go back into the castle and fetch Peter myself._

_And how will you do that? All the Two-Legs think you are a murderer. You cannot enter the common room, unless you want a repeat of last time._

He deflated slightly.  _I had thought the Fat Lady would help me. She won't let me in._

_She no longer guards the entrance._

His ears perked up.  _Then who does?_

_A Two-Legs covered in metal. He is insane._

_Sir Cadogan?_

_Yes. He makes up new passwords every day, the kittens are always complaining about him. One has written down a list of the passwords for the next week coming since he is always forgetting._

The Not-A-Dog bounded towards me eagerly.  _You must get me this list._

_I must do nothing._

_Get me this list or I'll bite you in two!_

_Trust a dog to make crude threats._

He said nothing, and I thought it over in my mind. I wasn't too thrilled with the idea of running errands, but then again, if I did this, then perhaps I would not need to do anything further. The Not-A-Rat would be dead, and I would be blameless.

_All right._

* * *

 

Snatching the passwords wasn't a particularly difficult task; the stupid kitten had left them lying on his bedside table, and I soon got them to the Not-A-Dog. I sat every night by my pet, waiting for the day when he would break in to steal away the Not-A-Rat, but it seemed he was taking his time. I was content to just wait. I saw the Not-A-Rat poke his face out of his protected pocket once or twice, but for once, I was happy just to sit and stare at him, lick my lips and unnerve him as much as I could. It seemed to work, as he withdrew quickly back into the pocket, quivering.

It seemed to work a little too well.

One day, the Ginger-Kitten came storming towards me, blazing with anger. I hissed at him, and leapt out of the way of his ill-aimed kick. I spat at him; how dare he? Thankfully, my pet was at hand.

"Ron! Don't!" she wailed, standing between us. "Don't hurt him!"

"He ate Scabbers, Hermione!" he bellowed, shaking his fist at me. "He  _ate_  him!"

I froze, confused. I had done no such thing, though the idea was not objectionable.

"You don't know that! Scabbers might not be dead. Have you looked underneath all the beds?"

The Ginger-Kitten goggled at her. "Of  _course_  I have! And he's gone! There's  _blood_  on the sheets, Hermione. That bloody beast ate him. He's gone. You didn't watch him properly. You saw the hairs I found."

"They might have been there since Christmas-"

"Leave off, Hermione," he said. "That thing ate him. Why are you still protecting that monster?"

"You're just prejudiced, Ron. Ever since he landed on your head back in the Magical Menagerie. You've never liked him."

"And for good reason!"

 

I meowed darkly, hissing as I did so. That slimy Not-A-Rat had faked his own death, not the first occasion from what the Not-A-Dog told me. He must have got wind of what me and the Not-A-Dog were planning and scarpered. I felt my anger growing. How were we ever to catch him now?

And what was worse, the little slimeball had landed me in it! Framed me! My hatred grew ever more intense. At least my pet was still defending me.

She carried me away and lay down on her bed with me for many hours, silently crying, and stroking me. I lay near her, trying to do what I could to make her feel better. This incident had only driven a further wedge between my pet and her former friends. I hated him even more for that.

He was away, perhaps for good, my pet was safe. But I wanted revenge, I wanted revenge as much as the Not-A-Dog did. That Not-A-Rat had caused my pet nothing but unhappiness and lost her all her friends. I would get him for that.

"They hate me, Crookshanks," she cried, pulling me closer. "They hate me. I've got nobody now."

 _No,_  I thought to myself.  _You've got me. And I will get him for this. For your sake._


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 _He wasn't there!_  The Not-A-Dog growled at me.  _I searched, but the rat wasn't there!_

 _I know,_  I responded, casually cleaning myself.  _He is gone._

 _Explain,_  he said, growling fiercely.

I quickly related all that had occurred, how the Not-A-Rat had faked his death and left blood on the sheets.

 _My pet was very upset,_ I said, eyeing him suspiciously.  _Why did you try to kill the Ginger-Kitten?_

 _I didn't,_  he replied.  _He just thought I was trying to hurt him. I was only after the rat._

He slumped down, and rested his head between his paws, whining softly.  _How am I ever going to find him now?_

Unbidden, I felt a stirring of sympathy, which far outweighed all the anger I felt at him frightening my pet by threatening her old friend with a knife.

 _He is a coward,_  I replied.  _He won't run far. We'll find him, and then we'll make him suffer._

A fervent light came back into his eyes, and a low growl sounded in the back of his throat.

_Yes, we shall._

* * *

 

 

Things passed more or less uneventfully the next few months, with nothing new to report about the whereabouts of the Not-A-Rat. The Ginger-Kitten still hated me, and threw stones at me, shouted at me, and did anything he could to annoy me. And I did the same for him. Every time he made my pet cry, every time he shouted at her, I hissed at him, spat at him, determined to protect her.

Things changed after a while though, and for some reason, my pet and the other two kittens seemed to make up and spent great deals of time together in the library looking at old books and talking about 'hippogriffs', whatever they were. The Ginger-Kitten was so obsessed with this, he even forgot to be nasty to me. But I wasn't about to forgive him that easily.

Having made up with the other two kittens, my pet seemed somewhat happier, and no longer cried herself to sleep the way she used to, but still, she was very stressed. She spent hours and hours poring over books, falling asleep at desks, and looking very frazzled in general. I tried to distract her from whatever sadness those books were giving her, but she was determined, and didn't even smile when I chased the mouse she had given me. She worked all day and all night, and I grew very concerned.

So I decided to continue my hunt for the Not-A-Rat. I could smell him still, he was in the grounds somewhere, but where I could not make out. I felt an itch beneath my claws, an itch not easily satisfied.

 _You really don't have any idea where he is?_  The Not-A-Dog asked me, as we walked side-by-side early one morning.  _Can't you track him?_

 _I thought dogs were supposed to be the expert trackers?_  I asked, annoyed.  _Why don't you do something instead of leaving me to do all the work? You've done nothing._

_That's not true._

_Oh yes, I forgot. You twice broke into the castle and twice almost got caught, and didn't even come close to catching the imposter. Well done._

_No need to be like that. Can you help me?_

_I've been helping you for months. It's time for you to come up with some ideas. Why don't you try and track him?_

_I can't today, it's the Quidditch final!_

_I don't know or care what that is. Just get some work done!_

I sprang away from him then, not satisfied with the progress we were making. How could one rat be so hard to find?

* * *

 

 

The kittens increased their workload more than ever, and now even my pet had little time for me, so obsessed was she with her books, so I just spent my time stalking the grounds, searching for the Not-A-Rat and getting annoyed with the Not-A-Dog and his failures. He really was as stupid as the animal he pretended to be.

But, it seemed I had written him off too quickly.

One evening, just after sundown, I was lying on the front lawn, sniffing the air, when I heard the Not-A-Dog bounding up towards me, ears flapping ludicrously, eyes blazing.

_I've found him!_

_Where?_  I demanded, leaping to my feet.

_He's been hiding in Hagrid's hut, that's why we could still smell him but couldn't track him. Harry and the others just went down to see him, and they left, and they've got Peter with them. They're coming this way right now!_

Immediately, my heart leapt, and I began shaking in anticipation.  _Finally._

 _I'm going to get him,_  growled the Not-a-Dog.  _I'll drag him off._

_But the Ginger-Kitten will have him._

_Then I'll take him too._

_You cannot hurt him, my pet would never forgive me._

_I won't,_  he promised, though he seemed unconcerned, so obsessed was he with the then sighed and seemed to think better of it.  _You, try and get Peter away from the boy, chase him towards the Whomping Willow. I'll grab him and take him into the Shrieking Shack. Harry and your pet will want to go after him. Bring them too; I want them to know the truth before I kill the rat. There's a secret passageway underneath the roots of the tree, press the knot at the base of the trunk with your paws and it'll freeze the branches. Follow the passageway until you get to the Shack, I'll be waiting upstairs._

And with that, he ran off, lying in wait. And it wasn't long before I heard the terrified squeaks of the Not-A-Rat approaching. I felt a thrill of pleasure. No escape this time.

The three kittens were nowhere to be seen, probably hidden by some sort of spell, but that didn't matter, I could easily hear him, and the Ginger-Kitten's desperate attempts to get him to stay quiet. But that was less than useless, he could smell me, and the Not-A-Dog as well. He knew his time was running out.

I slunk towards the sound of the squeaks, my eyes peeled for any sight of him. Then-

"Crookshanks! No, go away, Crookshanks! Go away!"

"Scabbers- NO!"

Their voices betrayed their presence, and a split second later, the rat himself was visible, streaking off into the darkness. I was after him like a shot, barely even registering the kittens that were following me. I chased the rat faster than I had ever run before, cutting off his escape into the forest, chasing him ever more towards the Moving-Tree-

" _Gotcha!_ Get off, you stinking cat-"

Angry as I was at being called stinking, I was more concerned with the fact that the stupid kitten had landed on top of me, almost squashing me flat, grabbing the Not-A-Rat by the tail. I yowled, signaling to the Not-A-Dog. He'd have to take the kitten too, the imposter was already back in the kitten's pocket, and I was seeing stars after being so rudely landed on.

He was there a moment later, pouncing on the Four-Eyed-Kitten and seizing the Ginger-Kitten by the arm and dragging him off. I hissed in annoyance, he had promised not to hurt him.

My pet and the remaining kitten tried to go after him, but were thrown back by the branches that hit at them so fiercely. They cried their friend's name desperately. I decided action was needed.

I darted underneath the branches as nimble as a, well, a cat, slithering between the branches and placing my front paws on a knot on the trunk as the Not-A-Dog had told me. Immediately, the tree froze.

I spied the gap in the roots and slid in with a flick of my tail, pausing only long enough to make sure my pet was following, feeling very pleased with myself. I made my way down the passageway as quickly as I could, following the combined stench of the Not-A-Dog and the Not-a-Rat, my excitement growing.

We emerged into a rather shabby looking house, and I wasted no time, but darted straight up the stairs to where I knew the two Two-Legs were. They were inside a dusty old bedroom; the Not-A-Dog had transformed back into his equally as ugly Two-Legs form. He nodded to me as I entered, and I sprang up onto the creaky bed, and lay there, purring loudly. The Ginger-Kitten was lying on the floor, his leg sticking out at a strange angle. He was hurt, but alive at least. My pet would be pleased at that, and I was pleased he was finally getting payback for all the pain he had caused my pet.

The other two kittens weren't long in coming, and then the confrontation began. To be honest, I wasn't much concerned with what was being said; the concerns of Two-legs bore me more often than not. But when I saw the Four-Eyed-Kitten attack the Not-A-Dog, I knew I had to intervene.

I leapt from my comfy spot on the bed and joined the fray, sinking my claws deep into the arm of the Four-Eyed-Kitten when he reached for his magic stick. He threw me off, and I dove for the stick myself, but then he aimed a kick at me, which I only just avoided, hissing wildly.

The kitten overpowered the Not-A-Dog, and pointed the stick at him, looking as if he was about to finish him off ...

_Like hell you will! I've worked too hard to let this filth get away once again!_

I streaked past the Four-Eyed-Kitten and leapt on to the Not-A-Dog's chest, settling myself right above his heart, staring defiantly back at the Four-Eyed-Kitten. The Not-A-Dog tried to shake me off, but I dug my claws in deeply. My pet gave a dry sob, and I was almost moved, but stood my ground. I had to make her understand the truth, make her understand that I'd been trying to protect her all along.

The seconds lengthened as the Four-Eyed-Kitten seemed uncertain and did not strike the final blow. I didn't think he cared that much about me, he must be genuinely unwilling to kill the Not-A-Dog. Typical cowardly Two-legs.

Just in time, another Two-legs entered the fight, disarming the kitten. It was the Wolf-Man, the one who was friends with the Not-A-Dog, and soon they were embracing, dropping me to the floor without a second thought. How's that for gratitude?

Then there was a great deal of talking, shouting, accusations, and things I wasn't remotely interested in. All that concerned me was the still lingering stench of the Not-A-Rat. The Not-A-Dog crossed to the bed and sat down, and I leapt into his lap, purring, letting the kittens know that he could be trusted, but I don't think they understood. They  _were_  only kittens, after all.

The Not-A-Dog and the Wolf-Man seemed to be trying to convince the kittens of the truth about the Not-A-Rat, but they weren't buying it, fools that they were. Finally they managed to convince the Ginger-Kitten to draw the Not-A-Rat out by his tail. I hissed immediately I saw him. Now the moment was almost here.

I was then rudely interrupted as the Not-A-Dog threw me to the ground as he lunged at the Not-A-Rat, only to be stopped by the Wolf-Man who kept going on about giving explanations. I barely curbed my impatience. Just kill the rat now! I'd waited long enough!

But that wasn't the plan, and there was a long discussion about werewolves, and Two-Legs turning into animals and all sorts of boring other things. There was a little bit of excitement when another Two-Legs with greasy fur entered the room, but the kittens soon dealt with him.

I had lost interest in the thread of the conversation, and lay purring on the bed, when I heard the Ginger-Kitten call me a 'mad cat'.

"This cat isn't mad," said the Not-A-Dog, resting a hand on my head. "He's the most intelligent of his kind that I've ever met."

This unexpected praise immediately raised the Not-A-Dog in my estimations. I might even forgive him now for impersonating an animal.

He told me pet and the other kittens about how I'd helped him, and my eyes were fixed on my pet the entire time, thrilled at finally having her know the truth, having her know I'd been trying to protect her. The amazed look on her face said it all. My purring grew louder.

Then, the moment finally came. The Ginger-Kitten finally held out the Not-A-Rat and a few flashes of light and noises later, and a man stood where the rat had been a second earlier. I spat and snarled at the man when I saw him; he looked almost rat-like himself, a true coward.

He sniveled, and he whimpered, and I gloried n the terrified look in his furtive little eyes. Finally retribution.

Eventually it was decided the Not-A-Rat be taken back to the castle, and I led the procession from the house, my tail held proudly behind me, thrilled at the successful capture of this vermin. I sauntered out into the grounds, the others following behind me, and began to make my way back to the castle.

Of course, this was when it all went wrong.

The stupid Wolf-Man had forgotten tonight was the full moon, and when the moon emerged from behind the clouds, he began to tremble and shake, hair sprouting from his face and hands, his head and body lengthening. My fur went on end, and I backed away slowly. This would not end well.

The Not-A-Dog transformed and charged the werewolf, but in the commotion, the Not-A-Rat had dived for the magic stick. A burst of light, and the Ginger-Kitten was motionless. I sprang towards the Not-A-Rat, determined not to let him escape, but there was another burst of light, and I knew no more.

* * *

 

 

It was hours before I came around, finding myself lying on the ground completely alone. I barely had time to be annoyed at the fact that someone had rescued the kittens and left me lying, before I was flying back up to the castle. I needed to know what had happened.

My pet wasn't in her bed, and worried, I stalked the castle, tracking down her scent until I found it inside the Hospital Wing. There were adult Two-Legs talking inside, and though I did not understand much of what was said, I heard enough to gather that the Not-A-Rat had gotten away.

This was a blow to say the least, all my hard work, wasted! Stupid Wolf-Man, it was all his fault …

I waited until the adult Two-Legs had left, and all had gone quiet inside the room before sneaking in. The three kittens were lying on beds in the dark. I found my pet easily, and leapt up beside her on the bed, nuzzling her softly, checking her for juries.

She sensed my presence, and opened her eyes and smiled, reaching out to pull me closer. I purred loudly.

"You clever boy, Crookshanks," she murmured. "You did all of that on your own. You were just trying to help us, weren't you? I'm sorry I shouted at you for chasing Scabbers. Turns out you were right. He got away, but so did Sirius. We'll get him one day. I'm just glad you're alright."

And she closed her eyes again, her hand gently entwined in my fur. I settled myself in for the night, still purring as I pondered her words.

She was right. The Not-A-Rat got away, but at least he was no longer endangering the kittens, at least they were no longer blind to his true identity, at least my pet had escaped unharmed.

That was all that really mattered.

* * *

 

 

In no time all it seemed, I was once again being crammed into that infernal cage, and loaded onto the great scarlet thing that had brought me to the castle that had become my home. But I was not long confined to these cramped living conditions, and I was soon let out, this time, not even the Ginger-Kitten offering an objection.

The journey passed with the kittens talking amongst themselves and laughing, and I was pleased to see my pet looking happier than I'd seen her all year. Maybe the Ginger-Kitten wasn't so bad after all.

Late into the afternoon however, we were rudely interrupted by an owl that was flying alongside us, and was soon let in to deposit a letter, before it started fluttering excitedly around the compartment. I watched it warily, standing up in my seat, unhappy with the undignified way it was behaving, wondering vaguely whether I would be allowed to chase it.

The Four-Eyed-Kitten read the letter, and seemed happy, as did the Ginger-Kitten when he was told the owl could now belong to him. He looked uncertainly at the owl for a moment or two, before to my great surprise (as well as everyone else's) he held it out for me to sniff.

"What d'you reckon? Definitely an owl?"

So he  _had_ learned his lesson? Good for him.

I purred loudly.

"That's good enough for me. He's mine."

I was pleased for him, though still a little wary of the owl. It seemed a little  _too_  excited. Delivering a letter? Try sniffing out murderous rats for a living!

Before long, I had once again been loaded into my cage, and my pet was carrying me away, and through what looked like a solid wall. She ran excitedly up to two Two-legs who smelled vaguely like her.

"Mum! Dad! Look, my new cat. Isn't he  _gorgeous?_ He's the most intelligent cat in the world!"

I purred loudly, despite still being inside my cage.

Yes, I had definitely chosen myself the right pet.


End file.
